by Grey, S. R.
I know I should go, but I’m just not ready to leave.
Kicking off my own shoes, I lie down next to Morgan on the bed.
So as not to feel like I’m being too intrusive, I slip the comforter out from under me and wrap it over her, creating a cocoon of sorts.
But just as I’m finishing with that, she nestles back into me, murmuring a soft but very distinct, “Don’t go, Zane. Not yet, please.”
So she does know I’m here…and she’s okay with it.
Softly, I whisper back, “I’m here, don’t worry. Go back to sleep, beautiful.”
I start smoothing back her long hair, and she lets out a contented sigh, clearly fully relaxed.
Once I’m sure she’s back asleep, I take a chance and lean forward to deposit one chaste, tender-soft kiss on her cheek.
And then I whisper, “Good night,” before I fall asleep next to her.
He Kissed Me!
Holy crap, he kissed me.
Okay, it was only on my cheek, and a very chaste peck at that, but still—Zane Tinsbury freaking kissed me!
He also slept with me the whole night, all the way up until early this morning when a couple construction guys arrived to do some weekend work.
I think they’re pouring cement in the driveway.
One good thing is since it’s Saturday, Zane doesn’t have practice. He also has nothing on his schedule all this upcoming week, besides hanging out with me.
Yay!
That makes me smile.
But then I start frowning because he’ll soon be off to training camp—blech!
That is going to suck big-time.
What will I do while he’s away?
I guess the same as I used to before he found me in the house.
I can’t believe I’m already reliant on his presence. Spending so much time alone for so long is clearly not good for a person.
My burgeoning feelings for him should scare me.
I’m going to have to leave eventually.
And then what?
Will Zane still want to see me?
I mean, we are becoming friends, right?
Ugh!
I’m not going to worry about it now.
I’m just going to enjoy the time we have left.
It’s amazing all this is going through my mind and I’m still not even out of bed.
“Enough,” I grump as I stretch and sit up.
I’m still in my clothes, the shorts and top and jacket from last night, so I’m anxious to shower.
But I’m also a little hungry.
What to do, what to do…
It smells like there’s something cooking downstairs, and I think it involves bacon.
Now my stomach really starts growling.
Maybe I should go down to the kitchen to see what Zane is whipping up for breakfast?
Ah, but it looks like I won’t have to, as Zane just walked into the bedroom with a makeshift tray in hand. It looks like a smooth piece of plywood and atop it is a plate of savory-smelling food and a glass of orange juice.
“Are you hungry?” Zane asks as he strides over to the bed.
He’s already showered—how did I sleep through that?—and dressed in faded jeans and a black Comets Football tee.
Mmm, he looks scrumptious.
When he asks again if I’m hungry, I reply honestly, “More than you could even imagine.”
Chuckling, he sets the plywood tray across my lap.
“Ooh, an omelet and bacon.” I nod approvingly. “It looks delicious. Thank you so much.”
“I loaded that omelet up too,” he informs me, clearly pleased with his culinary skills.
“Yeah?” I pick up the fork. “How so?”
Proudly, he proclaims, “I added cheddar cheese, sweet bell peppers, and onions.” Though…” His brows crease in concern. “I hope that’s not too much.”
“Are you kidding?” I cut a small piece of the omelet with my fork. “It sounds perfect.”
I dig in, and amid “mmms” and “yums,” I devour both the omelet and the bacon.
Zane watches me with amusement, his arms crossed as he stands at the foot of the bed. I think he’s happy with how much I’m enjoying the food he made.
“Aren’t you having any?” I ask as I swallow the last bite and pick up my juice glass.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says. “I ate mine downstairs.”
“Couldn’t wait, huh?”
“Nope. And”—his gorgeous blues twinkle—“I actually woofed down two.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I snicker into the glass before taking a sip.
Zane does have a voracious appetite. I guess being so big and strong and working out all the time does that to a person. I can’t help but wonder in what other areas his appetite may be just as voracious.
Sighing, I polish off the rest of my juice.
Zane informs me he has some things to go over with the workers today regarding the driveway.
“It may take a while,” he warns. “I need to review some lighting and landscape ideas I have.”
I wave my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way. I’m actually thinking of doing a little reading out on that nice back patio. The furniture is arriving soon, right?”
“It is,” he confirms. “It should be here any minute, in fact.”
“Great.”
Arching a brow, he asks, “Are the books I bought you okay?”
“I love them.” I nod enthusiastically. “I haven’t started the mystery, but it looks really promising. And the romance is sooo good.”
I make a little squeak of pleasure, and he laughs. “Ah, that’s great, Morgan.”
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Are we still on for the fire pit tonight?”
“Absolutely.” Zane shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
Softly, I reply, “I am too.”
“Well…” He clears his throat. “I better let you get ready for the day.” He points to my lap. “Do you want me to take the tray away?”
I’m finished, so I say, “Sure. And again, thanks for breakfast.”
As he comes over to the edge of the bed, lifting the tray from my lap, he says quietly, “You’re welcome, Morgan.”
Our eyes meet, and for a beat, everything stops. He’s so close I’d only need to lean forward and I could press my lips to his.
I almost do too.
But then I remember I have morning breath—and now omelet and bacon breath too, yuk—so what am I even thinking?
Plus, what if you mess everything up? a little voice inside my head warns. That chaste kiss he deposited on your cheek last night was probably just a friendly gesture, a sign of platonic affection, nothing more.
Suddenly feeling foolish, I look away.
When I turn back, Zane, smiling sadly, walks off with the tray in his hand.
Once he’s gone, I roll my eyes and mutter, “You are so stupid. Quit doing shit like that.”
Ha!
As if that’ll ever happen.
Clearly I can’t fully control myself when it comes to Zane.
The Reality of Reality
The day goes by quickly, and I don’t see much of Morgan. I’m busy with the contractors, and after all the patio furniture arrives and is put in place, she spends time as she said she would, out back reading one of her books.
Me, I’m just counting down the hours till we can be alone again.
She gave me an interesting look this morning while I was retrieving the tray. I thought for sure she was going to lean in and kiss me. She was staring at my mouth and licking her lips.
I don’t think she even realized that part.
But then she looked away, and the moment was lost.
It made me feel like maybe I had misread the whole situation. So I pretty much just got the hell out of there before it could become any more awkward.
Everything is fine now, though.
I’ve checked in on Morga
n a couple of times so far, taken her out a nice cold bottle of water at one point, and all seems back to normal.
Despite wanting to wait for her, a part of me is feeling like maybe I should go ahead and make a move, just to see what happens.
But I’m hampered by the real possibility I could end up putting her in a weird space.
She might run then…from me.
I don’t want that.
As I see off the last worker, I push any thoughts of action on my part, for now, away.
Resigned, I head to the kitchen to see what we can make for dinner.
But Morgan has beaten me to the punch.
“Ha, imagine meeting you here,” I tease when I walk in and see her standing at the refrigerator, door open, and leaning in.
Damn, she looks sexy in tight black leggings and I think what they call a baby doll white tee.
Peering over the fridge door, she says, “Hey, you. I’m not real hungry after that huge omelet this morning, so I’m thinking of maybe just throwing together a quick sandwich. Does that sound okay for you too? Or would you rather we cook something?”
“I’m cool with a sandwich,” I tell her. But then I quickly qualify, “Maybe we’d better make two for me.”
That makes her smile. “Of course, Zane.”
As she steps over to the island, precariously balancing cold cuts, cheeses, a tomato, and a bag of loose-leaf lettuce, she adds, “I actually think that, for you, maybe even three sandwiches are in order.”
“Hell, I agree.” I grab the fresh artisan bread I bought yesterday and take out a knife. “How about I slice up some bread and you pile on the good stuff?”
Snickering, she remarks, “Teamwork. I like it.”
“Yeah, I do too.”
I don’t add what I’m thinking—that she and I are good at it and make a terrific team. I just think that would be too much when I’m trying to pull back a little on the flirtation front.
Our sandwiches, by the way, turn out great.
We eat them while seated at the island in the kitchen.
Afterward, we head out back to start the fire.
By the time darkness has fallen, there’s a huge blaze roaring in the pit.
Morgan and I draw the Adirondack chairs closer to the flames as the temperature drops.
It’s still a nice night, though.
Apart from the crackling of the fire, there’s a chorus of frogs singing down by the stream in the woods.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” Morgan muses on a sigh. “You’re really lucky you get to live in such a nice place.”
She looks forlorn, so I remind her, “You can stay as long as you like.”
“I know.” She smiles over at me sadly. “But like we agreed in the beginning, I can’t hang out forever.”
Quickly, I say, “Hey, let’s not worry about you leaving just yet.”
“Okay, Zane.”
We know that day will come at some point. And now it’s out there, putting a damper on our night.
Though we stay outside until the fire dies down, there’s a decidedly different vibe than all the other nights we’ve spent together thus far.
I remind myself that this is one of the inevitabilities of our “arrangement.”
There will be a return to reality at some point.
But is that the reality I really want?
Is that what she longs for?
What is happening with us?
On thing for sure—I’m going to have a lot to think about at training camp.
Is There Something Wrong?
The night we have the fire out back feels like a turning point.
And not a good one.
I don’t think I like it.
No, I definitely don’t.
Zane leaves that night for his apartment, and though he does stop by to visit and eat dinner with me the next several days, he doesn’t stay over one single night.
Weird, because this is his house, not mine.
And he doesn’t even have practice this week.
I thought we’d spend far more time together.
But we don’t.
I guess the night of the drive-in was a one-off.
Another change is Zane is far less flirtatious with me.
I tell myself he just has a lot on his mind with training camp fast approaching.
Whatever the case, he is definitely distracted.
The night before he leaves for camp, I just ask outright, “Is there something wrong, Zane?”
He’s at the front door, about to leave.
He only stopped in to check in on some things that were completed earlier. Oh, and to eat dinner with me. Nothing special, though. We just had fast food he’d picked up on the way out.
So yeah, this visit has been the shortest yet.
“No, Morgan,” he replies rather dryly, “everything is fine.”
I give him a look. “Zane, come on.”
Blowing out a breath, he says, “I, uh, I just have some stuff on my mind. I’m sorry it’s affecting you.”
“Is it training camp stuff?” I ask.
“Among other things” is his short retort.
That’s not helpful, but I let it go.
Zane is not my boyfriend.
I have no right to pry.
Whatever is bothering him, though it does affect me, isn’t something he has to share.
But I wish he would.
I thought we were at least friends now.
“All right, so…” I shrug, not sure what to say next.
With his shoulders slumping, making him look even more defeated than before, Zane says, “I better go.”
I give him a little wave. “Okay. Good luck at camp. Call me if you can.”
I wince.
I shouldn’t have said that last part.
But it doesn’t matter.
Zane is on his way out the door.
Nodding absently, he says, “Sure. I will if I can.”
And then he’s gone into the night.
I stand with the front door open, the evening air, cool tonight, chills me as I watch the Escalade’s taillights grow smaller and smaller. They blink completely out of sight as Zane turns out onto the main road.
And I am once again left alone, this time for two freaking weeks.
Surprisingly, the time Zane is gone turns out to not be too bad.
It’s not great, as I do miss him, but I’m not as alone as I thought I’d be.
The workers come early and stay late, making me wonder if Zane talked to the contractor and asked him to make this so in order to keep me from spending multiple hours alone.
If he did, it was thoughtful.
It’d be just like Zane too.
That, dare I say, gives me hope.
Since the workers are around a lot more, tons of progress is made on the house. Zane once told me he hopes to be moved in by early October. Well, that is definitely possible now, maybe even sooner.
“October is only a month away.” I remind myself, noting that August just turned to September.
The idea of Zane moving in brings up many questions.
Like…
How will things work once he’s actually living here?
Spending lots of time out at the house is one thing. Residing in it is something else entirely.
Will I stay?
Will I be allowed to?
If so, where will I sleep?
Surely not in Zane’s room with him, despite that one night we shared a bed.
Maybe he’ll give me one of the multiple spare bedrooms. They’re all finished now.
Yep, there are no more open walls.
I was actually kind of sad the day my little hidey-hole was closed up.
I know that makes no sense.
But a lot of things don’t make sense these days.
Like earlier when Zane finally called on his way back from camp. It had just ended, and he was super upbeat, much like his old self before things got weird that last week
he was in town.
I initially chalked up his exuberance to the fact camp was over and done with.
But then I wasn’t so sure if his great mood had anything to do with camp at all.
He seemed really happy to be talking to me.
That lifted my spirits.
He asked how the last couple of weeks had gone, but I had a feeling he already knew. I think he’s had the lead contractor updating him.
That would mean he cares, like, a lot.
But that can’t be right.
Or can it?
Possibly, since another thing Zane was really pumped about was the prospect of us hanging out.
“As soon as fucking possible, Morgan,” was the way he put it.
“I’d like that,” I answered honestly.
“So what about tonight?” he said. “Seeing as I’ll be back in town real soon.”
Like he has to ask me to come over to his own house?
Silly man.
Shaking my head and smiling, I said, “That works for me. It’s not like I have any plans.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess not. Still, I feel like I should ask.”
“Well, that’s nice of you. Oh, and I’m sure you’re anxious to see all the work that was done while you were away. It’s amazing. It looks beautiful in here.”
“Hell,” he scoffed. “I don’t care about all that. Not right now. Checking things out can wait. It’s you that I want to see, sweet girl.”
Whoa!
Sweet girl.
Even though he couldn’t see me, I started blushing like crazy.
“Really?” I murmured in disbelief.
“Yes,” he insisted. “I fucking missed you, Morgan.”
Holy crap!
I was stunned, too stunned to edit myself as I replied, “I missed you too.”
It’s true, though I never meant to tell him outright like that.
But it seemed to make him happy.
“Good, good,” he said with a smile in his tone. Then he asked, “How do you feel about building a fire out back and just chilling? It should be a little cooler, perfect to get a good blaze going.”
“I’m totally up for that,” I replied quickly, pumped to spend time alone with Zane in the back with a romantic blaze roaring.
I want this one to be better, different.
I think he wants that too, like a do-over.